


Stay

by clarissa_writes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Choking, Darkfic, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Insecure Bucky Barnes, Kidnapping, Obsession, Stalking, Vaginal Fingering, dark!bucky barnes, poor bby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarissa_writes/pseuds/clarissa_writes
Summary: A road trip to Arizona goes wrong when you catch the attention of a familiar looking dark haired man with steely blue eyes
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 234





	Stay

_It would be fun!_

_You’ll have a great time!_

_The view is fantastic! You’ll love it there!_

_Come on, ____. It’ll be worth it! Don’t be such a downer._

You should’ve realized how stressful this was actually going to be. 

Looking out the car window, there’s an endless stretch of sand staring back at you. There’s also the shrubs peaking out every few feet in between the cacti and rocks scattered about sparsely. If it wasn’t so _scorching hot_ , you might’ve thought it was almost beautiful in that weird, rustic, nature-y way. Any nature-enthusiast would find this trip heavenly. A nice little getaway from all the clamoring noise and overcrowded streets of the city. **  
**

You, however, are here because of peer pressure.

It’s lifeless out here. You’re hardly surprised; the last time you saw another car pass by you had been hours ago. You don’t know how much longer it is until you’ll see a gas station or if you’re even on the right track anymore. Needless to say, your patience had run thin.

Except for the lizard and occasional tumbleweed rolling by, you hardly saw any movement out in this blaze. Hell, you’re half convinced if you stepped out into the sun directly, you’d shrivel up like dead leaves. Maybe even turn into dust from how hot it is.

You’re only hoping luck was on your side and that nothing _remotely_ bad would happen.

God forbid the car breaks down or you run out of gas. You’ve seen enough slasher films to know you’d be one of the first ones to die. The setting was practically perfect: a group of girls in the middle of who-even-knows, stranded with no combat skills to save their lives. If there was a serial killer around here, they’d be hitting the jackpot right about now.

You sighed, resting your head against the car seat and tried to ignore the sweltering Arizona heat hitting you full force. Renting a jeep had seemed like a good idea until you found the AC’s were broken and that was why the price had been cut down so remarkably low. It wasn’t a pleasant realization but you had to make do with what you had. Thus the windows were rolled down and you felt every inch of that torridity burn at your skin. You decided then and there the next time you guys planned a trip, you wouldn’t let Beth handle transportation.

“Fuck.”

You hiss, wiping the never-ending sweat off your temples.

Your friends had been persistent in including you to their plans. You were glad they did, but you certainly hadn’t expected it to be _this_ excruciatingly hot and long awaited. You’ve been sitting for eight hours straight without making a pitstop and your bladder was at its limit. Not to mention you’ve finished off the snacks you prepared for the trip.

Supposedly you were to pass by a diner.

It’s been three hours.

Still no diner.

If there was anyone to blame for your pain and discomfort, you would gladly point your finger at the direction of your stubborn friends. They’d been obsessing over stargazing and had been preparing to head over to Arizona for the chance to see it. Whereas you suggested taking a flight directly from New York to Arizona, they insisted on having an all girls road trip. It wasn’t the same, they told you.

_You have to experience the full thing to appreciate it right._

And that’s how you found yourself sweating like a pig, hungry, antsy and in desperate need for a bathroom break. You had half the mind to risk it all and pee out in the open, but you refrained to save yourself some dignity. Peeing outside was not how you wanted to remember this trip by.

“Are you sure we’re not lost, Lia?”

You turn your attention to Beth, who looked almost as worn out and annoyed as you were. Lia, who was driving, rolled her eyes and huffed. She peered at the rearview mirror to glare at her,

“Of course not! You guys have no faith in me. I know everyone’s tired and sweaty but I’m telling you, we’re almost there. In fact, in about ten-ish, maybe fifteen minutes we’ll pass a diner-”

“You said that already!”

“And I’m saying it again! I’ve done my research guys. I know exactly where we are. Now stop whining and get your cameras ready for tonight. It’s gonna be amazing.”

There’s a jumble of responses all ranging from half-hearted enthusiasm to disgruntled murmurs.

You were part of the latter.

“Well we better pull over,”

Yumie laughs, raising a brow in your direction,

“I’m not sure how much more _____ can take. She’ll probably piss herself if you make her wait another hour for a bathroom break.”

“Oh fuck off-”

You grumble, swatting at her while she deflects with a giggle. She wasn’t _wrong_ , but still. It’s not like you can control your bodily needs. You didn’t appreciate getting teased like this, thank you very much.

To your immense relief, Lia was right.

Around ten minutes later, a small building came to view. You nearly wept in joy when the tell-tale sign reading “Moe’s Burgers” came a few feet after. It was a dodgy looking diner, seeming more like a bar if anything, but there were two cars parked at the front. You could almost hear the angels singing above when you realized that finally, you can use the bathroom. Because of course the place had one... right?

The minute the car pulled up to the diner -which wasn’t as rusty as you initially thought close up- you got out of the car and made a dash to the entrance. Lia, Beth and Yumie were right behind you.

“Hold up, _____!”

You ignore Beth’s calls as you slipped through the door inside. The little diner was adorably old fashioned. It had the whole cowboy vibe to it. The stools at the front were cushioned but worn at the edges, and the booths were in a similar state. Honestly, the diner and the isolation reminded you of that one movie with demons and fallen angels. _Legion_ , you recalled. Now that was an intense movie. Intense and _good_.

This place looked and felt exactly like the diner from the start of the film.

“Well, hello there darlin’.”

You startle and turned to look at a sweet old lady grinning at you. She wore a light pink uniform and a name tag labeled _Mabel_ right below the collar of her dress. The smile on her face was warm, and you suddenly felt sheepish at the way you just burst into the establishment. God, you must've looked so obnoxious.

“Never seen you around here before.”

She says, looking surprised when your friends finally walk in behind you. It’s almost embarrassing how they gush and take in the place. As if they’ve never been to a diner before and were now having an outer-world experience. They’re so absorbed in looking around in awe that they hardly notice you and Mabel talking. For a moment you thought Mabel would find you and your friends rude, maybe even ask you to leave, but you were proven wrong.

The grin on Mabel’s face widens and she shakes her head with enough amusement to know you hadn’t offended her,

“I take it you’re here for the stars?”

“Um yeah, we heard they were a sight to see.”

“They are indeed,”

She raises a brow when Lia pulls out her phone to take a photo of the diner but doesn’t do anything more than laugh,

“Well alrighty then, ladies. Follow me and I’ll help you get settled in and comfortable. You must be hungry.”

You and your friends all agree to that.

-

When you’re all seated and you’ve been given the menus, you finally look around the place. Like _really_ look around. You spot two more patrons sitting in the other side. One is an older gentleman nearing his fifties with a cup of coffee in front of him and the other is another man - younger this time looking around his thirties- with a newspaper in hand. He’s flipping through it languidly before going back to another page to start reading.

Aside from Mabel and the cook, there also seemed to be the manager in the back office. It’s almost unsettling how quiet it is. In the diners you’ve been to, they were always bursting with life and laughter. Here, it’s dead silent apart from your friends’ chattering.

There came a chime from the door that immediately let everyone know another customer had just walked in.

In a place as deserted at this, you were kind of surprised at how much people gathered here.

“Holy shit, that is one _fine_ man.”

Your lips quirked at Lia’s awe and bit your lip in thought. Lia had high standards, so you were sure whoever it was that walked in had to be attractive enough to urge such a response from her. If you were a better person, you would’ve kept your eyes on the menu. You would’ve ignored the curiosity bubbling in your chest and carried on looking for something to eat.

You weren’t as well-mannered as you wished you were.

Carefully glancing up from the menu, your brows raised.

_Well, damn._

He really was handsome.

But... he also looked so familiar.

Where have you seen him before?

The man wearing a crisp jean jacket walked inside the diner in four long strides carrying an air of dominance you only ever saw in cliche bad boy romance movies. Tall, chiseled and entirely unnerving, the man had long brown hair tied into a bun and a bit of a scruff dusting over his sharp jawline. He was exactly the kind of man your mother would warn you about; the man people would whisper on the streets of. The kind of man who could stir the heat deep in your belly with one look.

It didn’t help the fact he had such sharp crystal blue eyes.

“Why, George you didn’t tell me you were comin’ by.”

Mabel steps away from the counter and heads in his direction. George doesn’t really say anything, only grunting before plopping himself down on the stool. After a brief exchange -well, Mabel talking to him and in return giving her terse nods- she goes off to get him coffee. He doesn’t say anything else even after she sets the steaming mug down in front of him.

Looking around, you blinked.

You weren't the only one drawn to the mysterious stranger.

“Looks like _____ here has a little crush.”

Yumie teases, nudging you with her elbow. You glare at her as hard as you could, but it doesn't stop the blush from coating your cheeks. It doesn’t stop the rest of the girls from making fun of you either. Little hypocrites they were! They stared too!

“Can you really blame her though?”

Beth peeks over the booth to look at George’s broad back turned from them,

“He’s hot as fuck.”

Almost as if hearing the gossip between you girls, George turns over his shoulder to look in your direction. All prior giggles hush in an instant and everyone turns away so fast you think someone might break their neck. You would’ve done the same if it weren’t for the fact steel blue eyes caught yours. Your lips part, eyes widen and suddenly it feels as though the Arizona heat blew right into you at that moment.

The blush that had settled on the apples of your face spread and darkened.

Shit.

You quickly look away, eyes glued onto the menu but after a few seconds of heart-thumping nerves, you slowly look back up again.There’s no way he was still looking right? He totally didn’t notice, right?

Your eyes once again catch his.

_He’s still staring._

“Oh God,”

you groan under your breath, absolutely mortified. This time you make no move to take another peek. You can feel the side of your face burn from how intense he’s looking over. It got to the point you tried making a curtain out of your hair, if only to save yourself from being glared at.

Well, he wasn’t really _glaring_ , but the iciness in his gaze was hostile enough to _feel_ like a glare.

You’re sure he’s heard your friends all talking about him. All gushing about how attractive he is and if it wasn’t embarrassing enough, you were caught red-handed ogling him. He totally thinks you’re a creep.

He has to.

Suddenly, George gets up with an abruptness that nearly toppled over the coffee he hadn’t even touched. He tosses a few bills at the counter before he’s turning away without another word and heading out the door. Everyone in the diner is watching him, even the gentleman at the back who was observing discreetly over his newspaper.

It’s only when the door closes behind him and the chime sounds that you finally breathe again.

“Well _shit_.”

Lia breathes, fanning herself as she casts one last lingering look at George’s retreating figure.

“That was intense.”

Yumie mutters with a frown. You’ll say, you stopped breathing when your eyes connected. George had punched the air right out of your lungs with just one look. Still, you can’t shake off the familiarity of the man. He reminded you of someone but you had no idea who. Every time you tried to come up with a name, your mind came up blank.

Sighing, you decide to push him in the back of your mind.

You tried not to think about him throughout your stay. Tried to get those piercing blue eyes out of your head. You were flustered and embarrassed but most of all, intrigued. It wouldn't do you any good. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again anyway.

“That boy...”

Mabel sighs, shaking her head as she stares after him,

“Never know what’s goin’ on inside that head of his.”

She walks over to where George sat and picked up his untouched coffee while also collecting the bills before shoving it in her apron. The look on Mabel’s face was alarming. If you didn’t know better, she might’ve looked a little scared.

As sudden and quick as George’s appearance and disappearance was, he clearly left an impact in the diner. You couldn’t help but take one last look. You turn your head toward the glass pane and watched as George swung his leg over a motorcycle. ( _ ~~How had you not heard the motorcycle before?)~~_ For a fleeting second you think he turns in your direction, but you can't be too sure. You don’t get the time to question it. He’s gone in a blink of an eye with the roaring of the motorcycle ripping into the air.

It’s when Mabel comes back to take your order that you remember:

You still needed to pee.

* * *

You eventually do make it to your destination.

The girls had set up camp for the night and finished building the tents just in time for when the sun went down. As much as the traveling was a pain in the ass, the view really was beautiful. Blues and purples all meshed stunningly together with bright, twinkling stars scattered everywhere in the sky. You’d taken up almost all the storage on your phone taking pictures.

You concluded that the payout was worth the trouble in the end. Though, you’d never openly admit that to Lia. She’d only look smug and hold it against you forever if you did.

“Didn't he look familiar?”

You ask suddenly, turning to Yumie, who you were sharing the tent with.

Lia and Beth were in the tent beside you. When everyone had their fill of the stars, you all called it a night and retreated inside the tents.

“Who?”

“That guy in the diner... _George_.”

Yumie rolled her eyes with a teasing grin on her face. Pulling one arm free from under her sleeping bag, she tucks it behind her head for leverage.

“You’re seriously still thinking about that guy?”

“Stop, it’s not like that. I swear, I’ve seen him before. I can’t remember how but I know I’ve seen his face.”

You sit up, furrowing your brows as you tried to dig through your memories. You have no idea why you’re so bothered, but something about George really rubbed you in the wrong way. It wasn’t so much about him being a bad person, necessarily, it was more of an itch you needed to scratch.

A question you needed an answer to.

You were going mad with curiosity.

“______,”

Yumie sighs,

“You’re being paranoid. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just go back to sleep, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

You want to argue, but you know she'll just brush you off. So instead of answering you simply go back into your sleeping bag and shut your eyes.

She’s probably right.

You’re probably overthinking this. I mean, what are the chances you actually do know this guy? He probably just had one of those familiar faces. The kind of face you see around in passing but don’t really know. With your mind made up, you tried not to let that weird feeling in your stomach grab hold of you.

* * *

You couldn’t sleep.

After tossing and turning for over an hour with Yumie snoring softly beside you, you decided this wasn’t going to work out. You resorted to going on your phone to pass some time but even that became tiring.

You were tired but sleep just couldn’t come to you. No matter how hard you tried to find a comfortable sleeping spot or how tight you shut your eyes, the call of sleep never came. It was a lost cause.

Sighing, you sat up and turned over to your friend.

Yumie was deep asleep and you envied how easy it was for her. You were sure Beth and Lia were also asleep by now in the tent over. There was nothing more you could do but lay there in silence. Just you and your lonesome.

Unless...

You consider it for a moment; maybe you can just sit outside and admire the view. It’s not like you have these kinds of stars in New York, why not take advantage of the situation and soak in the beauty? When was the next time you’ll get a sight like this?

You slowly crawl over to the zipper and as quietly as you could, unzipped the entryway. It was a challenge not to bump into Yumie or make enough noise to disturb her sleep, but you somehow manage to slip away without waking her up. You considered it an accomplishment.

The fire you had started died out long ago. The night was pretty and it was chillier than you expected it to be, but it was comforting. You sat near the entryway and shut your eyes.

Breathing in air that wasn’t laced with pollution and didn’t carry the “city” smell was a good kind of different. It was almost soothing if you were honest. This was a much needed break away from all the noise and people. A moment of peace was exactly what you needed. You’re almost sure you could fall asleep out here. It was _that_ liberating.

Unfortunately, your peace hadn’t lasted long.

“Be quiet.”

That was the last thing you heard before everything went dark.

* * *

Your body ached.

Groaning, you struggle to sit up from wherever it was you were laying. Your legs were numb, your shoulders felt sore and your head throbbed something fierce. At first it was a dull pulsing, then the more you focused, the heavier the pounding got. You could kill for an aspirin right about now. Running a hand through your hair, you breathed out a sigh.

The last thing you remembered was sitting outside the tent before you blacked out after hearing a voice tell you to be quiet. Everything after that was a blur. You think you can remember the distinct sound of an engine, but you’re not all too sure. For all you know it could’ve been your imagination and you just fell asleep. It wasn’t farfetched, and you’d much rather that be the case than the alternative. It would also explain why you felt raw all over. Sleeping on the ground would definitely result in aching limbs.

Rubbing the bleariness out of your eyes, you blinked a few times to concentrate. Everything was blurry. It didn’t help that it was pitch black out here. Finally you managed to get your head straight and cautiously looked around.

The terror was instantaneous.

You were in someone's house.

_You were in someone’s **house**._

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

The panic surged forward and the fatigue that pulled at you washed away at once. You weren’t imagining the voice. You were knocked out. You were _taken_. What was going to happen to you? Who took you? What about your friends? Were they safe? Were they taken too? Did they know you were missing? The adrenaline kicked in with all the questions running through your head and you shot up from the couch, looking around crazily for your captor. The house, or more specifically the room you were in, looked cozy enough.

There’s a dining table at the far end, a few chairs, counters, and all the other stuff you’d find in anyone’s house. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The place looked normal, maybe a little bare but otherwise entirely average.

The only difference is that there’s a looming shadow in the dark facing you.

The scream catches in your throat. You’re scared- fucking _terrified_ to the point your hands start to shake uncontrollably. Tears start to build up when the shadow moves closer and the heavy thumps of his footsteps ring louder. This was out of your control.

You were going to die.

_You were going to die._

The shadow - _the man_ \- gets closer and closer and your breathing gets harder. You’re screaming at your body to move, to run, to do anything but stand there waiting for the axe to come down your throat. You never understood why people always tripped in horror movies, but now you understood. You understood perfectly.

The fear that gripped you was so tight you could hardly feel anything else but the short bursts of ragged breathing.

Your breathing.

The man, tall and broad shouldered even in the dark, steps in front of you. Whether it was for intimidation or he was just that imposing, you felt the hair on your skin rise.

This was it. This was how you met your maker.

You were going to die without even putting up a fight.

The tears finally come rushing down your cheeks after breaking the barrier of your eyelids. Even then, you don’t say anything. You don’t move or speak, except for the pathetic whimpers slipping from your quivering lips. Your sobs got stuck in your chest, but the occasional broken wail manages to escape. You sound pitiful. Maybe pitiful enough for mercy. You hope he finds it in himself to let you go.

You pray for whatever God there is watching over you to get you out of this situation.

You pray for a miracle, for _something_ , to save you.

Then the man lifts his arm and finally, you gain the strength for movement.

Only, you don’t run. You simply shut your eyes as tight as you can as you await for the blow.

The blow that took the form of a warm, rough, hand caressing your face gently. You feel his thumb brush away the tears from your cheek,

“Don’t cry.”

Husky, deep, gravelly, nearly demanding with a soft tinge of a plead layered deep within his voice. You shudder as the hand moves down your face to the tip of your chin before settling the pad of his thumb on your lips. He stills for a second.

He presses his thumb down.

Your breathing comes to a stop, but your eyes are open by this point. Too surprised and scared to do anything else, you take him in. You look in the face of the man who’d abducted you and would quite possibly be the one to put you in your grave.

The darkness of the room surrounded him like a cloak. You can see the outline of his build, the length of his hair, but the blinds from the window manage to let some light spill inside. He steps just a few inches forward and the light unveils his face.

Blue eyes.

Steel blue eyes.

_George._

“You know me.”

He murmurs, thumb still resting on your lips, but is now stroking across the lower one. His eyes watch his ministrations almost in fascination. Like the mere act of touching another is so captivating he can’t look away, let alone _blink._ It’s odd but you don’t have the time to ponder about his interest.

George’s jaw ticks before he moves his hand to wrap around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but the threat is there. He’s letting you know that he can easily cut your life short by his hand. His hand was big enough to cover your throat and he was most definitely strong enough to end it all in one motion. The difference of life and death was literally in his hand.

His eyes shift to meet yours,

“You know me.”

He repeats,

“You know me. In the tent... you recognized me. You recognized me and now I can’t let you leave.”

His hand twitches as if he was going to make good on his wordless threat and choke you, but then he freezes halfway. A flinch of uncertainty. He faltered.

This moment of hesitation is all you need to finally get yourself out of this dark ravine clouding your judgement. It was a window of a chance and you were going to take it. You had no other choice but to lay down your cards. It was risky, but what more could you do?

“George, I- I don't know what you’re talking about-”

“ _Not George_.”

He bites out, squeezing your throat tighter for your apparent error. You struggle to keep calm, your head tilting up toward the ceiling to try and alleviate some of the pressure from your neck. It’s useless to fight him, you can tell as much from his sheer size alone. All that muscle on his body isn’t just for show. Luckily he didn’t squeeze to hurt you, but had squeezed as a warning. Slow and cautious would be your lifeline.

If anything, your defiance and refusal to comply might be what finally angers him to the point of murder. At least when you're somewhat compliant, he’s not so compulsive. He’s listening, isn’t he? That’s got to be a good sign. That had to mean something. You couldn't give up so soon.

“I-I don’t know you, I swear.”

Your hands slowly come up to cup around the hand holding you down. ~~George~~ _Not George_ doesn’t react negatively to the touch, nor does he respond positively. The grip around your throat is still airtight, but he made no move to cut off your air circulation completely. He just stood there staring at you. _Waiting._

“Mabel called you George.”

You grunt,

“That’s- That’s all I know.”

When the silence from his end drags on, you can’t help but add,

“Please. I don’t know your name, or whatever it is you think I know. I know nothing about you. Let me go, please. There’s no reason for you to keep me here.”

The words just kept flowing out endlessly. The more you tried to reason with him the more you felt the desperation. It’s as if something clicked in his head after you said that. There’s a brief second where realization passes through his eyes. A moment of clarity. You can physically see and feel his hold going lax for a moment, his tense body sagging by a fraction before he returns back to being stoic.

This time, there’s no hesitation in his eyes.

There’s only unbridled resolve.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“W-What?”

“Bucky Barnes. My name.”

Your eyes widen.

No.

_Oh God, no._

You realize what it is he’s done without him having to say it. It’s in his eyes, in his body language, and most of all, you feel it in your heart.

 _Bucky_ loosens the pressure around your neck until he’s simply holding you there, no longer restraining you. His eyes drops to your mouth,

“Now you know.”

It’s said so softly. So softly that it almost feels as if he’s trying to soothe you. A meaningless comfort when you know what he's done. You know his admission for what it is. His admission is a shackle. A leash to him. He’s damned you.

_Bound._

You knew his name, and now, you can’t leave. You might’ve been clueless just a few minutes ago but now _you know something._ You know something and he can’t afford to let you leave.

His thumb returns to your lips, gently brushing over the full curve.

“You stay.”

It’s not a request.

It’s an order.

“Bucky, please-”

He flinches when you say his name against his thumb, but he doesn't pull away. He just stares at you a little harder. His touch gets a little stiffer.

The fact that he doesn’t do anything encourages you to plea your case. Your panic was at an all-time high with everything that’s happening around you. You know not to upset him, so what could you do but try and reason with him? You don’t know if it’ll work but you’d gamble with what little options you had.

“Bucky, you don’t want to do this.”

You graze your fingers over his rough hand and brush your fingertips back and forth over his knuckles. It’s a poor attempt to appease him, but what more could you do? Swallowing down your fear, you catch the way he almost unravels at your gentle touch. It seems unfamiliar to him. There’s a wild look of disbelief in his eyes that he quickly tries to hide. A mask slides in place and he looks indifferent.

But the change is notable.

His eyes lose their initial hardness, the tick in his jaw unclenches and his tightly bound figure unwinds by the hair.

He uncoils.

You felt very much like a trainer trying to subdue and feral dog.

No, not dog, _wolf._

The gleam in his eyes is nothing less but predatory.

Your tongue glides along your lips. A nervous habit that Bucky unabashedly follows with his gaze. How the hell do you get out of this? You’ve heard of those stories where people were taken and kidnapped, but you never knew what to do in the situation. You never thought this would happen to you. And now that you were in this situation? You were grasping at straws.

“Bucky...”

You try tenderly,

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. You’re safe, I- I promise you, I won’t say a word about this. You can trust me. Please. You don’t have to hurt me. If you let me go, you won’t ever see me again.”

Your hands roam further up his arm to give him a light squeeze. You tried to look trustworthy. You tried to emphasize the truth of your words. You really wouldn’t say anything if he let you go. You’d pretend as if this didn’t happen and the minute you were free, you’d book it and never look back.

“-ying.”

He mumbles,

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I promise... unless you want to hurt me?”

It was fucked up.

It was fucked up trying to manipulate him- this man who was clearly disturbed and fragile and confused, but this was your life on the line. You could die. This was not the time to think of morals. Your survival was the priority.

“I don’t...”

Bucky trembles,

“I don’t want to hurt anyone... not anymore.”

Anymore.

He doesn't want to hurt anyone _anymore_.

Christ, you were so fucked.

“Then don’t.”

You whisper. If you weren’t so scared you would’ve applauded yourself for not stuttering. Your voice came out strong and confident unlike how you really felt inside- _weak and terrified_.

Bucky looks up then. His startling blue eyes look deep into yours, trying to read your intentions and see for himself whether or not your words are deceitful. He’s attentive in ways you’ve never known someone to be. You have no doubt he could see every flaw, lie, and scheme you may try to run by him. It makes him that much more dangerous.

His hand lowers from your throat until just his fingertips touch your collarbone. He almost looks pitiful. Defeated, tired, _lonely_ , Bucky stood there looking like the world had fallen around him and he had no choice but to suffer the aftermath.

Maybe it did.

You didn't know.

You weren’t _trying_ to know. That was the point. The less you know the better.

“Steve is still looking-”

Bucky cuts himself off before hastily looking away. He’d made a face of someone who said too much. A slip up on his part. It was the name that made things click. Steve. Steve Rogers. Captain America. Bucky Barnes. Captain America’s best friend.

_The Winter Soldier._

The man the Avengers were looking for.

It all made sense now. That was how you recognized him. You remember seeing the news about Bucky. You remembered how every news channel had broadcast the explosion over at the UN and promptly blamed him for the attack. Captain America was persistent in defending him, and soon, the truth came out that Bucky didn’t do anything wrong. He was framed, tortured and nothing in the world could ever take it back.

But still, he hid, even with his innocence proven, and Captain America searched endlessly.

Bucky saw the minute you realized who he was.

Your eyes had gotten a little bit clearer, your posture a little more rigid but it was the pity on your face that threw him off.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

You ask, continuing your attempt to appeal to him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault. Steve is your friend, of course he would look for you”

“It is. It is my fault”

“It’s not.”

You might’ve been too impulsive. You might've gotten too into character because your hands shot up to cradle his face. When you realized what you’d done, it was too late to back out. Bucky’s eyes widened as he watched you in silence. There it was again. The amazement of human contact.

“You couldn’t control it. You had no choice. You were brainwashed. Programmed to do bad things by bad people. It’s not your fault, Bucky. It’s _theirs_.”

There was honesty that bled into your words. You truly did think he was innocent in what happened. He was taken, held captive and then tortured for decades. You always thought he was villainized in the media when truly, he was a victim in all this.

“I’m sorry for everything you went through.”

You frown,

“I’m sorry for your pain.”

Your words seemed to resonate with him. The stoic bravado he’s put on crumbled and melted away at the sincerity of what you said. Maybe it was because it’s been so long since he had proper human interaction. Maybe it was because no one had so bluntly laid it out in the open the way you did. Regardless of what it was, he finally broke. His brows furrowed together, eyes nearly glassy with hurt and then he was hunching in on himself.

You weren't prepared for when his body cocooned over yours in an embrace. His thick arms wrapped around your waist and his head fell to your shoulder. You’d stiffened in his hold, but you relaxed into the hug when you felt the sobs wracking violently through him. It was oh so pitiful, and it did nothing to lessen the guilt you felt. If anything you felt it increase by tenfold.

You held him for what seemed like hours, running your hand up and down his back as his sobs subsided back into regulated breathing. Even then he didn’t move. He simply stood there, his arms entwined around you. Ever so often you’d felt him squeeze. As if he was making sure you were still there- **real.**

It almost felt nice in a way.

“It’s okay.”

You whisper, letting your hand rise to run your fingers through his ~~-surprisingly silky~~ -hair.

“It’s okay.”

Bucky pulls from your shoulder with a sniffle and when he looks at you, his eyes are rimmed red. He sniffles again, blinking away the last sheet of his tears when he does something unexpected. Something that hadn’t crossed your mind as a possibility of an outcome.

He presses his forehead against yours and leans in.

He kisses you.

It was a tentative kiss, a peck if you will, and he pulls away as quickly as he presses one on you. His eyes burn bright in the dimness of the room. So bright you can’t mistake the fire lingering in his gaze that only threatens to splay out of control. You’re stunned to say the least.

He must've taken that as a good sign because next thing you know, he’s slanting his mouth over yours once more and the shyness of the initial kiss sheds away to reveal a hunger so deep-rooted at his core your mind goes blank. Bucky presses harder into you, his metallic hand ~~-oh my god, his left arm was metallic~~ \- reaching up to cup your face properly. He angles you in his direction and nips at your lips. His other hand, the flesh one, was eager to feel you through your clothes. He’s rough, demanding, maybe a little desperate but you can’t help the little sigh that escapes you when his hand wanders to your breast.

It takes you a minute to snap out of the trance his kisses had pulled you in.

“W-Wait, Bucky stop.”

You try to shove him away but it’s like pushing against a brick house. He’s barely fazed by your rejection and pushes you forward until your back meets the wall. He shakes his head, his hands busying themselves at getting the buttons of your shirt undone. He looks like a man possessed,

“No.”

Just as the fear trickles inside you, so does the lust. When the last button comes loose, he wastes no time in getting his hands on you. Rough, calloused fingers drift up your abdomen to the swells of your chest. His hands are exploring. They take their time in memorizing and mapping out your skin. They squeeze and glide with finesse, making you feel as though you’re in his complete control.

And maybe you are.

He doesn’t let an inch of your skin go untouched.

“Beautiful.”

He murmurs, distracted by the soft flesh under his palms. He hooks his fingers around the cup of your bra before tearing it apart through the middle. He makes sure to rip away the shirt along with the lacy number. The surprised squeal that he pulls from you only spurs him on further. He briefly wonders what other sounds you can make. He has no doubt it would be anything less than perfect. The soft moans and sighs that you’ve already sung into the air has his cock throbbing with need. A testament to the pleasure he was bringing you. He has an appetite he knows can’t be sated without feeling you.

He hadn’t planned on tailing you.

When he noticed your lingering gaze back at the diner, his instinct told him to run and never look back. For all he knew, you were Hydra or SHIELD following him around. He didn’t want to take any chances, but something compelled him to stay.

Your eyes held him back.

His curiosity was piqued.

If you were an agent you were a pretty bad one. The obvious staring and and embarrassed flinch from you when he caught you staring told him all he needed to know.

Just from looking at you, he knew you didn’t pose as a physical threat.

You looked gentle enough, almost to the point of being dainty and fragile. Though his training has taught him not to underestimate anyone. Even dainty and fragile could kill.

Following you to your campsite had been a rash decision.

 _He just wanted to make sure,_ he told himself that was what it was. He simply wanted to take necessary precautions and ensure his own safety. He wanted to confirm the fact that you were innocent and he was being paranoid. Then he overheard you talking to that other girl about him being familiar. Something about seeing his face before.

It was then he decided he couldn’t leave you alone.

If you knew about him even a little bit, he had no doubt Hydra would catch his scent like the dirty bloodhounds they were. He had no other option but to deal with you. He didn’t really know what he planned on doing once he brought you home _. His_ home. He thought long and hard about what to do while you slept on his couch, but he never came up with a decision. All he was sure about was that he wasn’t going to kill you. At most, he would play up a threat -scare you into thinking he’d do you harm if you talked, but never actually laying a hand on you. He didn’t do that anymore. He didn’t want to.

At least, not to unsuspecting women like you.

A pretty little thing like you.

But then you cried.

Pretty little eyes wet with tears.

The sight had gutted him. He didn’t like it when you cried. He ordered you to stop your tears without a second thought, wanting nothing more than to brush them away and then he allowed himself to touch you. He touched you and he felt the warmth radiate from your skin. He felt your erratic breathing, the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat pulsing under his hand, and he was _enthralled_.

He was absolutely mesmerized.

You feared him, that much was obvious, but then you relaxed under his touch all the same. He felt you calm down, lose a bit of that fear as you stared him in the eyes and it brought him a thrill to know he could be your trigger and balm. He can strike fear into you, but also smoothen out the edges just the same. He can’t remember the last time he touched someone like this. He almost couldn't fathom the softness of your skin. The smooth, untainted, velvety feel of your flesh. Compared to the jagged scars littering his body, you were untouched.

Pure.

And you were just so _sweet_.

Like forbidden fruit within his reach.

He shouldn’t want to touch you with these hands. The hands that were covered in blood, soot, violence and death. For your sake, he should stay away. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to smear the filth all over you until he’s coated you from head to toe. Until he’s stained you enough to be _his._

He had demons he was still fighting against. Demons haunting his sleep. The same demons whispering in his ear to keep you. To keep you close. To make you _stay_. And when you spoke on his behalf, defended him against the evil that befell his hand, and the evil you didn’t know was lurking beneath his soul, he knew he had to have you.

He had no light in his life, and he so desperately wanted to snuff out yours.

He wanted your light all to himself.

Bucky slipped his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his so that your lips would meet. He groaned, grinding his lower half into your shaking thighs. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Just one taste of your lips had him panting for it. After being deprived for so long, he had no intention to stop. He needed you to be even closer.

He bit at your lower lip, growling when he felt the cute little twitch of your thighs.

The scent of your arousal was thick and heedy and he moaned wondering how you tasted. He could almost picture the slick running down between your legs. What a fucking sight that would be. He didn’t remember much about the 40s, but he did remember pretty smiles and soft hands. He remembered the euphoria, the excitement, but even with those bits and pieces of memories, he knew it was nothing compared to this moment.

You squirmed in his hold, arms trying to wretch away but he gave you no opportunity to break free. His hold was ironclad. You quickly realized the uselessness of resisting. Breathing out shakily, your hips just forward involuntarily and right onto his hardening cock.

Bucky dipped his head low to the level of your ear and groaned out,

  
“Stay.”

His hands skimmed down to your pants, effortlessly unbuttoning and unzipping the front. He doesn’t give you any warning before his flesh hand dips inside, past your underwear to cup your soaking mound. It’s mortifying- your face ignites into flames the second his thick fingers slide between your moist folds. The squelching sounds of your arousal echoes in the silence of the night. His fingers wander around, feeling the silk of your womanhood and then….

They find your bud and he is _merciless_.

The whimper bubbles up in your throat, and your body braces for the onslaught of shudders raking down your spine. You can’t remember the last time you had someone touch you intimately. It’s been so long for you, you were hypersensitive to everything Bucky was doing. You give into the pleasure and drop your head to his shoulder as you whine. You’re shaking from how good it feels and the worst part is, is that he knows. He’s practically beaming at the sounds you were making.

Bucky chuckles low in your ear, and it’s irritating how _attractive_ it sounds.

“Messy girl.”

His fingers rub faster, the slick between your legs dampening your underwear and pants alike. You have half the mind to rip it off, to just get rid of the annoying barrier but you’re quickly losing your wits. It’s shameful how fast you gave into the lust. The feeling of humiliation and self-disgust treads close to your heart. It’s a looming emotion behind the lust and pleasure obstructing your rationality.

You’re acting like a cockdrunk whore, but when Bucky’s fingers slide dangerously close to your opening and he starts to plunge his fingers bit by bit inside you, you find it hard to care.

You arch your back, gasping out when he finally sinks two fingers in to the very hilt. It’s deliciously addictive. The pace at which he’s going- knowingly driving you mad and yet making you wait for it.

“That’s it, pretty girl.”  
  


Bucky coos, licking a strip from the base of your neck to your earlobe,

“Come for me. All over my fingers, you can do it, Doll.”

He speeds up his pace, his fingers going _in and out, in and out_ ; then curving when he gets deep enough to make your toes curl. Sharp bursts of pleasure erupts from your lower abdomen and spans to the rest of your body like wildfire. It’s unfair when he starts laying kisses at your neck. It’s torture when he grins,

“You’re so tight, Sweetheart. Clampin’ down on me like that. Will you grip my cock this tight too? Hmm?”

Your eyes roll back at his words. Images of riding him, of taking it -being made to take it-, of his taut body hovering over yours as he takes what he needs from you flash through your mind. Your walls flutter around his fingers and it seems that’s all Bucky could take. He finally reached his limit when you reached yours _ages_ ago.

He hisses under his breath, regrettably pulling his fingers from inside you to which you let out a disgruntled groan of protest. Bucky doesn’t let you pout for long as his lips quickly swallow up your complaints.

“M’ gonna fill you up.”

He says onto your lips,

“You’re so sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.”  
  


You could hear the Brooklyn drawl from his words. You never knew you had a thing for accents. Never even considered it. Glancing down to your trembling thighs where your pussy was fluttering around nothing, you confirm that now, you do.

Bucky wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up so suddenly you yelp and quickly loop your legs around him to keep yourself from slipping down. He doesn’t say anything else before he starts walking off in the direction of where you assume to be is the bedroom.

In a few quick strides, you’re there and he unceremoniously drops you onto the bed with a little bounce. You watch him, amazed and half-dazzled at the way he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off in one swoop. You don’t mean to, but your eyes gravitate to his left arm. Your heart gives a little squeeze at the sight. The scarring is awful, it was clear the work on him wasn’t careful enough, nor was it really a priority. You can’t imagine the kind of suffering he went through. On paper, it sounds horrendous, but to actually live through the Hell he was put through?

A pang of sadness hits you, but you’re glad to see he seems too distracted with unbuckling his belt to notice your lingering gaze. His body was a masterpiece. Even with his clothes on, you’d felt the hard planes of his muscles. The bulge and curve of his biceps alone had let you know how monstrous his body was in terms of strength. If he can stand head to head with Captain America, it really wasn’t a surprise to know he was incredibly strong.

“Bucky…”

You whisper, trailing off when you realize you don’t even know what to say. He spares you a glance before looking down to the bulge in his pants. Pushing the offending clothing down his hips, you can’t help but marvel at him. You’d felt him before and you knew he was packing but…. Damn.

He caught your eye and his lips quirk up when you push your legs together in attempt to soothe the ache.

“Keep em open.”

He tells you. You don’t move in the shock of his request, but Bucky simply raises a brow at you.

“Open.”

He repeats.

Your legs pull apart slowly, and he watches with unwarped attention. His tongue glides along the seam of his lips and he nods,

“Take off your pants.”

Your pants was the first to go, then the undergarment and you found yourself entirely naked before him. Throughout the whole thing, Bucky never strayed his attention from you. He was silent but he was focused. When you’ve laid yourself bare, Bucky finished undressing himself and crawled over you. He looks you in the eyes, cock twitching with need and he presses his forehead against yours,

“Stay.”  
  


You swallow, but you don’t look away from him,

“I-I can’t-”

You cry out when you felt his cock position at your entrance. He’s a tease. A fucking tease. Your hips rolled up, trying to get him to soothe the lust coiling in your belly, but Bucky holds you down firmly. His metal hand comes to your hip, stopping you mid-roll and you whine when he grasps his cock in the flesh hand and slides his length up and down your pussy. The head brushes against your clit and it elicits a sharp wince from you.

“Stay.”  
  


He murmurs, grinding down on you harder. Your wetness coats his cock, and it’s tantalizing to feel every vein and ridge of his manhood pressing into you. It’s driving you crazy with want. You’re at your wits end, but Bucky has the patience. He’s lasted decades without this, he can wait a few minutes more. He tightens his grip around his girth and begins to push in inch by inch. He’s in no rush and he wants to savour every second of this.

“Oh my God-”

You gasp, throwing your head back into the bed. The thickness of him burned so good, the stretch around him felt heavenly and suddenly the last bit of sense in your mind was thrown out. Bucky keeps pushing in at an agonizingly slow pace. You want to slam yourself down on him, to have his hands touch you all over, but he’s having none of it. He takes his time and finally, fucking finally, he’s sheathed in fully. Your teeth bite down on your lower lip to hold in your cries. You feel so full, so good that you know you won’t be able to stop.

Bucky has yet to move and when you look at him, you know he’s waiting for you.

“Stay.”

Bucky says, running his hands up your hips, to the swells of your breasts before pinching your hardened tips in his fingers. You moan, arching your back into him before breathing in shakily. Trying to tell yourself to calm down is futile. Your heart is racing and your blood is boiling hot with need. You feel him everywhere on your skin. He’s dug himself so deep you wouldn't be able to wash him off completely.

“Bucky!”

You mewl, writhing in his hold until you felt his metal hand move up to your throat. You gasp when he encloses his fist around you. It shouldn’t be so arousing. You shouldn't feel hot under his hold, but you do. He feels you tighten around his cock and the look on his face is downright seductive. His eyes darken, his lips part to inhale a sharp breath and then he smirks,

“You love this.”

He moves his hips away just enough for you to feel the delicious drag of his cock pull out, before he’s pushing back into you hard. You’re moved up, the power behind his thrust strong enough to jostle you forward. It’s like an invisible cord was cut. The impressive restraint he was showing you is gone and next thing you know, he’s pounding into you with wild abandon. His grunts intertwine with your moans along with the obscene clapping of skin and the creaking of the mattress.

He’s giving it to you good.

The hand he has around your throat doesn’t slip away, he holds you down while he wrecks havoc on your pussy. Bucky lost himself to the pleasure your body offers him. He takes what he can, revels in the sweet, tight heat of you and is eager for more. Your moans ignites a deeper sense of want. He wants you to scream, to cry out, to let everyone know that he’s the one making you feel this way. He’s the one who has control over your pleasure.

Even when realistically, he knows no one is around his isolated home in the deserts, the thought of someone waking by and hearing you sing for him is alluring. You are _his_. You only needed to accept that.

“Stay.”

Bucky moans, tightening his grip around your throat. The reaction he gets is instantaneous. Your pussy clamps down on him and your mouth falls open in a soundless shout. He knows you’re close. You’re itching for release and you know that the only way to get it is from him. So Bucky looks down on you, thrusting forward harder than before and leans to kiss you,

“Stay with me, _____.”  
  


The sound of your name falling from his lips make the coil in your belly tighten even more. Your name sounds so good from his mouth. It sounds like temptation. Temptation you’ve already lost yourself to. Bucky adds a dirty roll of his hips, pressing his pelvis into you before he pulling out and plunging back in.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”  
  


His other hand finds your clit, rubbing feverishly as you babble nonsensically into the air. You can feel your peak, and the fact you were so close had tears brimming your eyes. You were going mad with desperation. Desperation for him and the release you were actively searching for. So when he gives you that look- the one that told you he would stop if you didn’t give him an answer, you nod and cry out,

“-ay. I’ll- I’ll stay.”  
  


Relief comes quickly when the coil in your belly finally snaps. You scream out your orgasm, nearly crying out as Bucky fucked you through it. His hips snap forward, going even faster than before and joins you only a minute later. He groans out loud, spilling into you spurt after spurt. The warm liquid fills you up and you can feel it seeping out around Bucky’s cock.

He doesn’t pull out, enjoying the final pulses of your walls and grins down at you.

With the last of his energy, he bends down and gives you a languid kiss,

“Stay.”

He whispers, to which you nod tiredly.

You only realize it now, as he drops into the bed beside you. Bucky snuggles into your side, his face buried into the crook of your shoulder and the mess of your hair. He kisses your neck and bands a thick arm around your midsection. He pulls you to him,

“Stay.”

You only realize it now.

He wasn’t asking you to stay. The word was never a question. You only realize it now, as your eyes were finally closing shut from exhaustion and Bucky’s soft breaths fanned against your skin.

You were always going to stay.

You never really had a choice.


End file.
